


Snow Place Like Gnome

by icybluepenguin



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Bad Puns, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Funny, Meet-Cute, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex, Silly, Snowball Fight, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:37:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4434083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icybluepenguin/pseuds/icybluepenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stranger gets caught in the crossfire of the OFC’s snowball fight.  She invites him back to her house for a cup of cocoa and a chance to warm up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Place Like Gnome

**Author's Note:**

> A fun little meet-cute PWP. I don’t know why with the puns. I wanted something really silly to get back into writing after months of depression. Thank you all for reading (and I’m sorry for the puns.)

“You give that back!” I shrieked, stumbling in the deep snow as I lunged for Kelly.  “I’ll get you!”

Kelly laughed, her new hostage in our snowball fight held proudly above her head.

“If you ever want to see him again, you’d better put down that snowball and say ‘Kelly is the best friend ever and the smartest person in the wor-’” She cut off with a splutter as my snowball hit her shoulder.

I had my next one forming in my hands by the time she had taken off, running awkwardly through the snowy front yard.  I chased her, pulling back my arm and hurling the ball with all my strength.

“Oh  _shit_ ,” I shouted.

The man on the sidewalk was looking at the starburst of snow on his side, sparkling white in contrast to the black of his jacket.  I gaped at him- where had he come from?  And where had Kelly gone?  I had hit a stranger with a snowball, could I be sued?  A blond, tall, extremely handsome stranger who was giving me the strangest look as I stared like a monkey seeing its reflection for the first time.

“I am so so sorry, sir, we’re having a snowball-”

_Splat!_

I lurched forward from the impact, snow trickling down my neck.  I spun to see Kelly grinning at her successful hit to the back of my head.  If she had seen the stranger, she didn’t act like it and she took off running as soon as I had turned.  Which pissed me off because-

_Splat!_

This time right between my shoulder blades.  I spun again, this time seeing the stranger tossing another snowball casually in his gloved hand.  “Snowball fight, darling?”

I didn’t even have time to process what I was seeing- or hearing, was he British?- before I was hit square in the chest.   _Damn, he’s good,_  I thought, dripping with snow.  I bent over, gathering my own ammunition.  The stranger did the same, both of us trying to form a proper ball before the other.  A quick, brutal volley later, we were both covered in snow; I felt vaguely guilty because he wasn’t really dressed for a fight in his quilted jacket and jeans- but he threw  _hard,_  so I wasn’t inclined to give him too much slack.

We were staring each other down, his eyes a piercing blue in the flat lighting, when Kelly appeared, her husband in tow, to pelt us both mercilessly from a wagon full of snowballs.

“Get her!  She’s holding Gnome Chomsky hostage!” I cried, pointing to the red gnome hat pointing out from wagon.  

The stranger laughed at that, and without any other incentive, he began his assault.  I joined in, running after the enemy, giggling and stumbling and my exposed skin freezing and burning at the same time and my gloves soaking through.  The fight went on for at least another half hour, during which the stranger and I exchanged quick facts in the lulls.  I found out his name- Tom- and that he  _was_  British, and he teased me about my garden gnome’s name, and we agreed that the other team was very cowardly for taking him hostage.

Eventually, the cowards called it in.  They exchanged Gnome Chomsky for safe passage, shaking our hands (after I had awkwardly introduced Tom) and heading back to their house down the street. Tom and I watched them for a few minutes until I started to shiver, the melting snow in my boots and my cooling body temperature getting to me.  I noticed Tom having the same reaction and now I  _did_  feel guilty.  The poor man was standing here freezing in his leather boots and sodden jeans because of me.

“Do you, um… hey, why don’t you come on inside.  We can throw your clothes in the dryer…”

“That’s very kind of you, darling, thank you!” he said, ending with a glowing smile.  He ran a hand through his wet blond curls.  "I do seem a bit bedraggled.“

I led him inside where I had a bunch of towels laid out on the floor. "Just leave your boots and jacket here, I’ll take care of them while you take a hot shower.  Get yourself less bedraggled.  I’ll make us some cocoa.  With marshmallows even!”

“Are you moving?” he asked, taking in the stacks of boxes in the front hall.

“No,” I grumbled.  “Those are my ex’s things.  Lived together a year and turns out the guy had been cheating on me nearly the whole time.”

“I’m so sorry.”  Tom sounded genuinely concerned, his soft British lilt lending an extra tenderness to his words.  I looked up from undoing my boots to see his brow furrowed and his mouth turned down.

“Oh, I’ll survive.  It hurts, but looking back, he obviously wasn’t that great a catch.”  I smiled, trying to lighten the mood.  “Like, he couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a snowball.”

Tom chuckled and set his boots neatly side by side on a towel, draping his wet jacket next to them.

“The bathroom’s just down the hall there.  You can take off your wet things and, uh, I’ll dig up something for you to put on after your shower…”  I concentrated, trying to think.  Matt was a lot shorter than Tom- and he had taken most of his clothes already anyway. “Oh, I know!”  I dove for a box as inspiration struck.  Under all the team-emblazoned towels and slippers, there was a soft velvet bathrobe that I had bought him for Valentine’s day.  I held it up for Tom’s inspection.  “It’ll be a little short, but it should cover everything- oh shit, I mean, uh-”  Shaking my head at myself, I finished, “You know what I mean.”

He graciously ignored my floundering, even if I could see his lips twitching.  “Thank you so much, darling, this really is too kind of you.”  He took the robe with a nod and headed in the direction I had pointed.

_Damn, I bet I could bounce a quarter off that ass._   The roll of his hips, the straight spine, the wet (white!) shirt plastered against very prominent deltoids… I stared until he turned the corner, trying to burn the image into my brain.   _He’s like walking porn.  Daaaaamn._

I dug through my clothes while I toweled off. What did one wear when having cocoa with the ungodly hot stranger who had randomly joined in your snowball fight?  Nothing too revealing or slutty, nothing too casual or slobby…  That didn’t leave a lot of options.

I settled on a favorite t-shirt and the pair of yoga pants that- if I said so myself- made my butt look great… just in case.  Laid back, but I still looked pretty good, I thought as I ran a brush through my hat hair.  Perfect attire for a snack with a tall, lithe, and entirely too charming Brit.

I was in the kitchen stirring chocolate into the hot milk when I heard him leave the bathroom.  I turned with the two mugs in my hand and nearly dropped them.  He was fucking  _stunning_.  The dark robe set off his milky skin, and the neckline plunged down his chest to nearly his stomach.  The hem hit just under his knees, revealing calves that had no business being that sexy on a man.  His golden hair was fluffed up in waves and the occasional loose ringlet and now that he had no scarf, I could clearly see the delicious scruff dusted over his strong, sharp jaw.

All he needed was a pipe and he would have fit right in with Hef at the Playboy Grotto.

It was a miracle I managed to put the mugs down on the breakfast bar and keep my mouth from hanging open at the same time.  Tom had an unreadable look on his face as he approached the counter.

“Clod of wayward marl,” he said, his tongue flashing briefly between his teeth.

“Poisonous hunchback’d toad,” I shot back.  I pulled the hem of my shirt out from my body, making it easier for him to read all the insults printed on it.  I realized as I did that he had picked one of the insults stretched across my breasts.  

He chuckled, a little  _ehehehe_  sound, his tongue caught between his teeth. “A fellow Shakespeare fan, love?”

We talked about the Bard and our favorite plays and sonnets while I set out a plate of chocolate chip oatmeal cookies and a bowl of marshmallows. His eyes seemed to wander to the “wayward marl” area again and again as we chatted, moving on to other subjects. He was renting a house a few blocks over and had been walking to visit a friend when I had hit him with the snowball. I told him a little of my breakup and my job.  Our hands touched when we both reached for a cookie, sending a little electric teenage thrill through me, making me feel like I was on my first date.

_And he’s definitely staring at my boobs._   But then, I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off his lips, especially when his tongue slid over them.

“What’s that?” Tom asked, gesturing to the stuffed dog dressed in a black robe on the end of the bar.

“Oh, that’s Ruth Barker Ginsburg.”

There was a long pause and then he groaned, a low, gruff sound that made my stomach do an odd flip.  “You certainly have a thing for puns.”

“What can I say, I think they’re puntastic,” I shrugged, giggling at his repeated groan.  God, if he was going to make that sound every time I made a pun, I might never stop.  I shifted on my chair, highly conscious of the heat between my legs.

“Wait, shouldn’t that be  _Woof_ Barker Ginsburg?”  There was that damn tongue between his teeth again with that grin.  It was entirely too charming and at the same time, had me thinking very, very filthy thoughts about where he could put it…

I gaped at him, slack-jawed for a moment, then I cleared my throat in an attempt to get myself under control.  “Uh… Yes, I suppose that is better.  You’re not too bad at this pun thing.”

“You’ve got some crumbs, love.”  He reached his long arm across the marble and brushed his fingers across my shirt.

My eyes unfocused, my breath frozen in my chest at that touch.   _Oh god, I can’t stand this.  How dare he be so fucking nice and so fucking hot in my kitchen._

“I need more marshmallows,” I declared, a little too loudly.  “My cocoa-to-mallow ratio is all off.”  I stretched across the counter for the bowl, standing on the crossbar of my stool for a little more reach.  The stool scooted back, my fingers grabbed, touched, missed, the bowl spun, and marshmallows rained down on the floor.  “Crap,” I muttered, kneeling to pick them up.

“Oh!  Here, I’ll help you…”  Tom jumped off his own stool, crouching down and reaching for a marshmallow.

The robe parted as he squatted, showing off rather knobby knees and the pale, bare skin of his inner thighs, all the way up to the hard, blushing cock bobbing between them.  I must have made a noise- probably a strangled one, staring at that long beautiful thing- because Tom shot to his feet, but his erection still poking from between the sides of the robe.

“Oh fucking Christ, I am so sorry!” he babbled.  “I forgot, I mean, I wanted to help- I wasn’t thinking-”

“Don’t worry about it,” I whispered, my voice half-choked, still staring at the dark pink head that Tom was trying to tuck back in.  I licked my dry lips, imagining the velvety skin sliding over them, the way he might taste, would he moan… _God, I want that in my mouth._

“Oh, well-” Tom coughed.

“Oh fucking  _shit_!  Did I say that out loud?”  My hands flew to cover my face and I wished the searing hot embarrassment I was feeling was enough to set me on fire and kill me right then and there.  “Oh god, I am  _so sorry_ ,” I sputtered, standing and turning away from him.

Time stretched torturously slow while I prayed the floor would swallow me whole and take me straight to Hell- eternal torment had to be easier than this.

“Don’t be,” he said, his voice tinged with embarrassed amusement.  Long slender fingers wrapped around my wrists, gently pulling my hands away from my face.  I stared stubbornly at the floor, cursing it for not having collapsed under me yet.  “It’s… extremely flattering.  And I, uh well, I might have been thinking some things about you to make it that way…”

A hand left my wrist to hold my chin, raising my head with gentle pressure. I had a brief glimpse of his blue eyes, pupils blown wide, before his lips brushed mine and my own eyes slid shut. His lips were slightly chapped, but still soft and warm.  He tugged on my chin, coaxing my mouth open.  He was subtle, slow, his tongue flicking and retreating, barely there, until I was desperate for more of him.  His other arm slid around my back, pulling me flush against him so that I could feel his erection against my stomach.  I tasted the cocoa and cookies, even a hint of marshmallow as he leaned forward, holding me close.  

“Tom, I… wait…” I managed when he pulled away to trail hot, sweet kisses along my jaw.

He hummed a little acknowledgement in my ear before pulling back to look at me.  “I’ll stop, if you want.  Say the word, at any time, it’s just…”  He licked his lips, his eyes wide and brows raised.  “You’re beautiful, and smart, and… quirky.  You’re wearing a shirt with Shakespearean insults and you have a garden gnome named Gnome Chomsky.  How could I not be captivated, how could I not wonder what you feel like- under that shirt, in my mouth, wrapped around me?”

I swallowed against the sudden lump in my throat.  It had been so long and Tom was the hottest man I had ever seen. And here he was staring at me like he could see straight into my soul with those brilliant blue eyes.  

“Tom…  _wood_  you like to stay?” I asked as I ground against him, his cock hot and hard between us.

He groaned.  "That’s awful, love.  But god, don’t stop…“

"Yeah, not my best,” I giggled, giddy, nervous, excited.  “I just want you to know what you’re getting into.”  I reached up with hands that shook only slightly and pulled his mouth back to mine. Tentative, exploring.  Cocoa and vanilla, slide and twine, warm and wet. His hair was silky soft under my fingers, his hands splayed over my back then cupped around my ass, his own fingers squeezing subtly to the rhythm of his heart.  His breath hitched, skipped a beat, when I scratched my nails over his scalp; I gasped into his mouth when his thumb rubbed behind my ear.

“I know what I want to ‘get into,’” he mumbled, pulling away to look at me with a hazy smirk.

The trip down the hallway was peppered with kisses pressed up against walls, groping hands trying to slide under clothes, breaths stolen and returned. We stumbled and grinned, switching places constantly, one of us always walking backwards, the other chasing with with caresses and giggles.

It was easy to untie the sash of Tom’s robe, baring his sleek, muscled chest, dusted with just a touch of bronze hair, leading down between his legs. He shrugged out of the garment, letting it fall to the floor as he stalked after me towards the bed.   _He is perfection,_ I thought in amazement. Beautifully proportioned, nearly flawless pale skin, a Adonis belt I could cut myself on.  I wanted to trace that with my tongue, to lick every inch of him- especially the inches standing proudly against his stomach.

“That’s quite the look,” he smirked, chest puffing out just a little, preening. “Don’t like what you see?”

I laughed, gently, my cheeks flaming, but I knew I was going to say it anyway.  “Oh come on, don’t make this  _harder_  than it has to be.”

He dove for me, knocking me on to the bed, pinning me down with his hips. “Hard enough for you?”

“Oh fuck.   _Yes_ ,” I hissed.  “Yes it is.” I bucked up, making him moan when I sealed my lips around the triangle of freckles on his neck.  We wrestled on the mattress, mouths on necks or ears, hands tangled in hair or sliding down spines.  We gasped and growled and whimpered until my panties were soaked through and my neck was burning deliciously from his scruff.

“Wait.”  I stretched my arm, throwing my leg and half-climbing on top of him.  I opened the drawer in the nightstand, pulling out the box of condoms and putting it on top.  "Easy access.“

He grinned, his tongue between his teeth in that  _alarmingly_  charming way, and rolled me back under him with a slow kiss.  “Smart girl.”  He slid down my body, fingers worming their way under the waistband of my pants.  He tugged them and my panties down my legs, placing gentle nips and nibbles on my bare thighs.  I squirmed, raising my hips to entice him closer.

But he crawled up me at a snail’s pace, pushing my shirt ahead of him, his mouth dancing over the skin he exposed, soft kisses on my hips and belly and ribs.  Up and up, pausing only to help me pull the shirt over my head, then back to his task. Feather-light caresses on the sides of my breasts, teasing my nipples to hard points without ever touching them. I whined and tangled my fingers in his hair, dragging his mouth where I needed him.  He gave a pleased hum against my nipple before drawing it into his mouth, grinning at my gasp of relief.  Hot and wet, his tongue flicking over the sensitive skin, his palm covering the other and kneading softly.

My skin felt on fire by the time he nibbled his way along my collarbone, every cell in my body screaming for him.  I trembled as he sucked on my neck, whimpering at the graze of his teeth, half my body demanding I sheath him in me immediately and half wanting to draw out every sensation leading up to that point.  

Tom was lying next to me now, the full length of him pressed against my side. He curled a leg over mine, pulling my thighs apart as his hand skimmed down between my breasts and over my belly to cup my mound.  His long finger stroked up and down, slowly, gently, until my arousal coated the digit.

"So warm.  So wet,” he murmured, then paused.  "I, um, I’m trying to think up an appropriate pun, but I can’t find one.“

"That’s okaa- _aaay_ -”  My voice rose sharply as he sank his finger into me in one long, slow stroke, curling it with deadly precision.  "Oh god…“

Again that little happy hum, this time right in my ear, rattling in my brain.  "You are beautiful, love.  That’s it, move with me…”  

My hips thrust against his hand, rising off the bed as he pushed inside, two fingers now in a steady, confident rhythm.  I closed my eyes, losing myself in the lapping waves of pleasure, in the sound of his careful breathing in my ear.  Until the heel of his hand pressed down on my clit and his fingers curled sharply again.

I bucked, my free foot kicking at the mattress, my hands gripping his arm hard enough to leave bruises.  "Oh fuck, Tom!“ I gasped, screwing my eyes shut tighter.

"Yes, there we go, fall apart for me, love,” he coaxed, his voice husky and lilting.  "You feel so good.  You’re dripping all over my hand… and after you come, I’m going to lick it all off…“

That visual tipped me over the edge, my thighs clamping shut around his hand as my back bowed, my voice locked in my throat, the only sound the blood rushing in my ears.  I rutted against his palm, shameless, wringing out every bit I could even as he continued to push against my g-spot.  Boneless, I collapsed back to the bed, small twitches still echoing through me, my heart pounding.

Tom extricated his hand, his movements slow and deliberate.  I cracked open my eyes to see him propped up on his arm, his fingers in his mouth, his own eyes closed as he sucked them clean.

"Fantastic,” he breathed, looking down at me with a smile. “You are fantastic.”

“Holy fuck, Tom,” I mumbled, staring at him hazily. “You really know how to use those hands.”  

He grinned at me again, then bit his lip, a hint of a blush coloring his sharp cheekbones as his face became serious and he looked at me with deep, soulful eyes.  "I meant it, darling.“

"So did I.  Five stars, would come again.”

“Oh, would you now?” he asked with a sly look.  I giggled as his hands grabbed mine, twining our fingers together so that he could nip at my throat with playful growls.  They turned slowly into low groans as I rubbed against him, his cock dripping precome on my skin.

I twisted and rolled, ending up straddling his hips, smirking down at him. Making sure my breasts brushed over his face, I leaned over and snagged a condom out of the box.  He pulled a nipple into his mouth before I could sit back up, drawing on it gently until I squirmed.  Which ground my soaked folds against his cock, making him gasp.

“You’re so slippery- and so hot… oh  _god_ …”  His eyes slid shut and his head pressed back into the pillow.  His hands reached for me, but I was sliding down his thighs, tearing open the foil as I went.

The arch of his neck, the hiss let out between clenched teeth, the tremble of his thighs under me as he made himself stay still while I rolled the latex over him… the fresh rush of liquid and the aching emptiness between my legs, the weightless feeling in my stomach as I lowered myself onto him… I had never felt so bold, so confidently sexy as I did looking down at the golden god beneath me.  His burnished curls were ruffled and mussed, his tongue caught between his teeth, his eyes glued to the spot we were joined as I rose and sank down again, letting him see my fluids on his cock.

Tom grabbed my hips, long fingers curling around, holding me still so he could press up into me.  I inhaled sharply, resting my own hands on his chest for support as he grazed my g-spot again and again.  I began to rock, his grip pushing me down, easing me back, slow, easy, deep, until I was quivering above him.

“Fucking hell, you’re so lovely,” he murmured, almost to himself, a hand on my neck pulling me down for a long, thorough kiss.

When I sat back up, lips swollen, the taste of him lingering in my mouth, he slid his hand down his stomach, palm down, spreading his fingers around the base of his cock.  I squeaked at the new, delicious pressure of his knuckles against my clit, rolling my hips experimentally.

“That’s it,” he purred, watching me with dark, wide-blown eyes. “Come for me, darling, ride me just like that…”

I whimpered, biting my lip, finding the right rhythm.  God, he felt amazing.  I moved faster, my clit throbbing in erratic bursts as my orgasm coiled tighter and tighter.  Falling forward, my nails dug into his shoulders, panting and groaning encouragement when he thrust upwards, grinding down on his knuckles.

Staccato half-voiced gasps fell from my lips as I convulsed, gripping him tightly, eyes squeezed shut.  His name came out in broken syllables, my body shuddering, arching, pulsing, frozen in time for a fleeting moment.  I opened my eyes to see his blue ones inches from mine, rapt, awed, hungry.  

His hands curled around my hips again, one distinctly wet, moving me to his desire as he thrust with increasing speed.  I twisted my fingers in his soft curls, breathing in his desperate grunts and strangled growls, admiring the clench of his jaw and the veins in his neck. He yanked me down hard, his back arcing up off the bed, my name cried out in stuttering breaths.  We trembled together for a minute in the aftermath, both panting, reluctant to move and break our connection.

Finally Tom rolled me off of him and to the side, kissing my cheek.  “Be right back, darling.”  He scooted off the bed and I smiled a little at the sound of him looking for a trashcan.

“Over by the chair, next to Sherlock Gnomes,” I called muzzily, my eyes closed, floating on the blissful release of endorphins.

He tutted as he climbed back into bed, curling around me.  “You have a problem.”

“Mmph.”  I snuggled back against his warmth, limbs heavy and sated.  “Weren’t you going to go meet a friend?”

“I texted him after I put my clothes in the dryer.  Figured I’d just go home after they dried.  This is much better, though.  And it’s starting to snow again.”

“You know what they say,” I mumbled, inhaling the post-sex scent of him, pheromones and sweat and come.  “Snow place like home… but it’s a little ice-olated.  Good to have some com-pun-y.”

His indulgent groan vibrated against my back, even as his arms pulled me closer to him.  “Don’t  _drift_  off then.”

“Oh ho!” I giggled.  “You’re getting better.  But I’m still the  _winter_  of this contest.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to get a terrible amount of pract- _ice_  being around you, darling.”  His mouth danced over my shoulder blade.  “If you don’t mind me staying around a while…?”

“Snow problem, Tom.”


End file.
